Demonic Existance
by Aldedron
Summary: 1st Kuroshitsuji fic. For beings outside the boundaries of time, morals do not exist. Only principle. The principle of the contract and upholding one's repuation. But how did it all begin?


**A/N**  
>My first <em>Kuroshitsuji<em> fic! This's actually been on my hard drive for quite awhile... I only just finished writing the last three paragraphs ^^'

You probably already know this, but... there's a sequel to the Kuroshitsuji anime. Claude and Sebastian are fighting over Ciel, and I couldn't help but wonder… Why? What is so irresistible about that boy? Why do these two demons so ceaselessly battle over him, Sebastian going through the effort to deliver a _second_ revenge in order to re-attain that flavor which has been lost. Why? They say his taste is something rare. Rare how? Why is his rareness such a desire amongst demons? Better yet: Why does a single being in their endless lives matter so much, and why must they attain it through such strict contracts?

My ponderings always end up drabbly…

Furthering my ponderous drabbling, I decided to break one of my primary writing rules: tense. I shift tense all throughout this fic, but it's done on purpose. This is an attempt to express how a timeless demon would view the world. Time means little to demons, as they live for so very long, so I figured messing with the tense would further express this view or something...

Translations: akuma—demon / devil; tenshi—angel; shinigami—death god; shitsuji—butler

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><p><strong>Demonic Existence<br>**_Why do they battle over one boy? It all goes back to the beginning…_

What is life? Why do we exist?

These were all questions a human might ask. But not an _akuma_.

Demon. Devil. Labels given by these same humans.

Humans were an akuma's food source. They were such frail, helpless creatures, it wasn't any wonder they came to be prey. Some humans were tasteless; others overflowed with flavor. It was this ultimate flavor that akuma so sought.

Why do we live? Why do we exist?

Once more, this speculation was of human whimsy, so desperately seeking a _reason_ to exist. Why did they do that? It was an eternal characteristic of the beings, passed down since the dawn of time. Why should an akuma care about some foolish mortal seeking the answer to that wonder?

Yet… they did…

Why?

Humans were an akuma's food source. They were frail, helpless creatures, so it wasn't any wonder they came to be prey. Some humans were tasteless; others overflowing with flavor—

Wait. Hadn't he just gone over this?

Why?

What is life? Why do we exist?

Constantly, humans ponder this question. Humans, an akuma's prey. They weren't exactly hard to kill, yet it was the unfathomable instinct of all predators to strive to understand their prey. Suddenly, akuma find themselves questioning why humans asked these questions. And, subsequently, the questions themselves.

For so long, akuma have watched humans in their frivolous battles for survival, for supremacy. A pecking order, if you will. Amongst a species so pathetic, it wasn't any wonder they wanted to feel superior. Thus: war, murder, and betrayal.

Why?

Why do they harm each other so? The pecking order has already been established and refined over millions of years. Yet still they fight amongst themselves—unless it is not each other with whom they are truly battling.

Humans were an akuma's food source. As predators, it was only natural for them to try and understand their prey. Yet… why was this task so difficult? Most humans were shallow and face-value, so simple and empty. They tasted of stale air. But others—! Others were different.

Why?

Why were there those who tasted of stale air, and others with an unnamable flavor so overpowering with spices and delectability?

—Since when does an akuma ask "Why?" _at all_?

Asking is a characteristic of frail humanity. Of the inferior prey. Yet… something about this prey incited this wonder even into those that did not ponder such things. Since when did akuma wonder? Since when did they wonder when they began to?

Humans. They were contagious, apparently.

Somehow, while hunting their prey, akuma had begun to wonder why. It was an odd thing… wondering…

Why?

Why do they wonder? Is there even a purpose behind it?

Humans were such odd creatures. While there were those who tasted of stale air, there were others with an unnamable flavor so overpowering with spices and delectability. They were so delicious, those rare souls. Now that he thought back, was it not the ponderous mortals who held a hint of this? Where could he attain more of this delectable flavor, so rare in this mundane, stale air world‽

What is life? Why do we exist?

It was humans who asked these questions, not akuma. Yet, suddenly, this wonder was so very important to the predators. Humans wondered. Akuma hunted the wonderers. It was those with depth who tasted so… so…

Yet, now that he thought back even further, it was not those who merely wondered that contained the richest of spices. No. They had something more within their souls.

Sometimes—No. Rarely would he receive the most delectable soul, incomparable to all those before it! These were not the souls of peasant nitwits, nor were they those of plush scholars. They were in a league all their own.

Most souls consumed were those of petty criminals, sometimes a psychopath or two, discontent nobodies, plush-lived idiots, and the like. They all had their own individual tastes and scents, but they were so dull and continuous that the individual characteristics quickly faded in the monotone of stale air. Boring. Yet he had no choice but to continue consuming such bland flavors.

Humans are an akuma's food source.

Why?

Why did akuma prey only on these odd creatures? There were so many others upon this ancient world: wolves, tigers, whales, and mammoths. All for naught; these creatures were not their genetically engineered prey. Only did they devour the souls of humanity.

Why do we live? Why do we exist?

Those mortal questions, once again.

Akuma held no answer to these wonders, for they _had_ no answer. They held no reason to live, to exist. They simply did. Not for the sake of existing—

But, wait. Why _did_ they exist?

The moment this wonder struck, there was no turning back…

This wonder shockwaved though the akuma reality, embedding itself in their racial memory just as surely as the human need to wonder in the first place. Suddenly, akuma were wondering why they existed, just as their prey did.

Only… they sought a different reason behind it than their mortal food.

They sought the _best_ soul. Not the purest—oh Hell no! Not only was there no such thing, but pure meant there was but a single ingredient; pure meant bland. The _best_ soul was a rare treasure, only appearing upon this desolate world once every eternity: one who had lived through Heaven and Hell yet refused to return to either, one who was strong yet weak, one who was determined yet unable to fulfill.

But how to obtain such a soul?

Akuma were empty creatures who had lived forever without purpose. Suddenly, they held one. Find this soul.

Still, how to accomplish such a task? They held neither guilt nor determination. Yet they were determined to taste this being. Yet they would settle for no less once but a lick had been procured, no matter the costs.

How?

No longer did "Why?" exist. Only "How?" remained.

Akuma were empty creatures who had lived forever without purpose. They came and went as they pleased, devoured a soul when they were hungry. Aimlessness. It was now a burden, now that they held a purpose. No longer could they wander without direction, for it only went against this ultimate goal of finding and devouring the _best_ soul.

No one was born with this tainted-delicious being. It was inflicted upon them, first, and then the person themselves struggled against it with such fervor that an even richer flavor was procured. There were many who suffered enough hardship to begin this process, but ended up to weak to fulfill the ultimate flavor, lacking the character and strength to fight onwards. There were also those with the fervor who had failed to experience such agony, instead focusing their energies upon their livelihoods.

Both were necessary to create the best soul.

Yet, hardly ever did the cosmos align to create this mortal.

Thus… the "contract" began.

An akuma would be called upon by someone who had suffered but was determined to fight on, anyways. Some were more fervent, had suffered more, than others. Bound by a contract, many akuma would not feed the entire duration of service to raising this soul. All energies would go towards assisting this person achieve their ultimate revenge.

The akuma strived to be the perfect servants, for some reason. Shitsuji. They didn't know why.

Or perhaps they did. Perhaps it was to fill the gaping hole where morals and consciences were supposed to lie with principles. Suddenly, there were rules. Rules on how to act, how to treat the human with whom they'd formed this contract, the measures to which they would go to protect their Master. Suddenly, they bore leashes. Suddenly, they weren't aimless. Countless years into a single mortal, to procuring a single meal. Suddenly, this was expected. Dare they not abide by these invisible rules, all they had, their reputation, was ruined. Dare they break contract, they were outcasts, hunted by fellow akuma, unable to grab a single meal, for all the best souls were taken. All they had were principles, reputation, and contracts—and this was more than they'd ever had before.

Every akuma possessed a tattoo-like marking that was their name. When contract was made, they marked this mortal with their name; the closer to the eye, the stronger the bond. It ensured that the human couldn't run away, and that the akuma wouldn't betray the human. It marked their territory, clearly stating that this human was that akuma's sole property, and vice versa, and that no other dare touch it. Otherwise, their reputation would be lost, their principles broken. All they had managed to gain over these endless years would be lost.

After so many millennia of aimlessness, suddenly they had purpose. Serve a "Master". Never before had they had a Master. It had always been they and they alone. Never before had an akuma been so devoted to a single meal. It had always been feed when hungry, come and go as one pleased.

_He_… had a Master.

It was an odd thought to which he quickly adapted.

Over the years, he went by many names, assigned by each new Master, just like all the other akuma.

Contract after contract was signed and fulfilled. He had not once broken it, remaining loyal to these newfound principles and maintaining a perfect akuma-reputation. He could go so many years without a single meal and perform as perfectly as with a full belly. There was almost no task to which he could not accomplish were his Master to order him as such. Even amongst fellow akuma, he was powerful, and few dared challenge him.

This was a life lived by many an akuma, yet he felt as though he stood out. His contracts tended to last longer than most others, and he was wont to not sign even at a reasonable summoning. His taste was more refined, some might say, but most just called him picky and high-strung. During a contract, unlike many others in the beginning, he never devoured another's soul. Nor did he betwixt. Suddenly, he wasn't like all the other faceless, aimless akuma. Sure, they all held the same goal of attaining the ultimate flavor, but none were more fervent about it than he. No matter the costs, to himself or others, he obeyed his Master's orders. And when that Master weakened into an everyday being, his dedication to the contract diluted and disappeared; he never broke it, for it instead voided in on itself as the Master's dedication to the cause weakened. An aimless Master simply would not do.

Still, he sought the perfect flavor. As millennia waved by, others forgot of this pursuit, too lost in the endless schedule of contracts, snatching up any they could find. They were always hungry, always awaiting the end of their current contracts so they could feed. Many reverted to the old ways and came and went as they pleased. In comparison with this newfound order, this was unacceptable, and they were hunted down by shinigami, tenshi, and even fellow akuma.

But not he. He was a Master himself—of other akuma. None dared cross him. And those that did dare... Even tenshi could die. He had proven that. And continue he would.

What is life? Why do we exist?

Life is existence. For the perfect flavor. _I exist as akuma and shitsuji for my Master._

He has found his meaning. That meaning is the flavor that is...Ciel Phantomhive.

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><p><strong>AN**  
>So... what'd you think? I probably won't write another <em>Kuroshitsuji<em> fic, but I'd like to know if I did okay nonetheless

Thoughts? Comments? Confusion? Review!


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